Once in a deep valley
the cuckoo and the nightingale
struck a wager.
Whoever sang the masterpiece,
whether won by art or won by luck!
Thanks would he take away.

The cuckoo spoke: ‘If you agree,
I have chosen the judge,’
and he at once named the ass.
‘For since he has two large ears,
he can hear all the better,
and recognize what is right!’

Soon they ﬂew before the judge.
When he was told the matter,
he decreed that they should sing!

The nightingale sang out sweetly!
The ass spoke: ‘You muddle me up!
You muddle me up! Heehaw! Heehaw!
I can’t get it into my head!’

There upon the cuckoo began quickly
his song in thirds and fourths and ﬁfths.
It pleased the ass, he spoke but:
‘Wait! Wait! Wait!
I will pronounce thy judgement,
yes, pronounce.

You have sung well, nightingale!
But, cuckoo, you sing a good chorale!
And hold the beat precisely!
I speak from my higher understanding!
And even if it cost a whole country,
I thus pronounce you the winner, the winner!’
Cuckoo, cuckoo! Heehaw

At sermon time Anthony
ﬁnds the church empty!
He goes to the rivers
and preaches to the ﬁsh!
They ﬂap with their tails!
They gleam in the sunshine, they gleam!

The carp with roe
have all congregated;
their jaws gaping,
intent on listening!
Never did a sermon
so please the ﬁsh!

Sharp-snouted pike,
that fence continually,
swam up in a hurry
to hear the holy man!
Even those odd creatures
that continually fast:
I mean the codﬁsh,
appear for the sermon!
Never did a sermon
so please the codﬁsh!

Good eels and sturgeon
that people of quality relish,
even they condescend
to attend the sermon!
Crayﬁsh, too, and turtles,
usually slowboats,
climb hurriedly from the depths
to hear this voice!
Never did a sermon
so please the crayﬁsh!

Fish big and ﬁsh small!
Of quality and common!
They raise their heads
like rational creatures!
At God’s command
they listen to the sermon.

The sermon ﬁnished,
each one turns away!
The pike remain thieves,
the eels great lovers;
the sermon was pleasing,
they all stay the same!

The crabs go backwards;
the codﬁsh stay fat;
the carp gorge a lot,
the sermon’s forgotten!
The sermon was pleasing,
they all stay the same!

Up and down he beats the drum,
he wakes his silent brothers,
trallali, trallaley, trallali, trallaley,
they battle and they strike their enemy,
enemy, enemy,
trallali, trallaley, trallalerallala,
a terror smites the enemy!

Up and down he beats the drum,
there they are again before their billets,
trallali, trallaley, trallali, trallaley.
Clearly out into the alley!
They draw before sweetheart’s house,
trallali, trallaley,
trallali, trallaley, trallalera,
they draw before sweetheart’s house, trallali.

In the morning there stand the skeletons
in rank and ﬁle, they stand like tombstones,
in rank, in rank and ﬁle.
The drum stands in front,
so that it can see him.
Trallali, trallaley,
trallali, trallaley, trallalera,
so that it can see him!

The Prisoner:
Thoughts are free,
who can guess them;
they rush past
like nocturnal shadows,
no man can know them,
no hunter can shoot them,
it remains thus:
thoughts are free!

The Maiden:
Summer is a time for merriment
on high, wild mountains.
There one ﬁnds a green place,
my heartily loving little sweetheart,
from you I do not wish to part!

The Prisoner:
And if they lock me up
in a dark dungeon,
all this is but
effort in vain;
for my thoughts
tear the bars apart
and the walls in twain,
thoughts are free!

The Maiden:
Summer is a time for merriment,
on high, wild mountains.
There one is always quite alone,
on high, wild mountains.
There one hears no children yelling!
There the air invites one to himself,
yes, the air invites one to himself.

The Prisoner:
So may it be the way it is!
And if it happens,
may it all happen in the silence,
only everything in the silence!
My wish and desire
can be restrained by no one!
It remains thus,
thoughts are free!

The Maiden:
My sweetheart, you sing as cheerfully here
as a little bird in the grass.
I stand so sadly at the prison door,
if I only were dead, if I only were with you,
alas, must I then always complain?

The Prisoner:
And since you complain so,
I’ll renounce love!
And if I dare,
then nothing can worry me!
Then in my heart I can always
laugh and be jovial.
It remains thus:
Thoughts are free!
Thoughts are free!

Who then is outside and who is knocking,
that can so softly awaken me?

It is your dearest darling,
get up and let me come to you!
Why should I go on standing here?
I see the red of morn arise,
the red of morn, two bright stars.
I long to be with my sweetheart!
With my dearest darling.

The maiden got up and let him in;
she bade him welcome, too.
Welcome, my dear lad!
You have been standing so long!

She offered him too her snow-white hand.
From far away the nightingale sang,
then the maiden began to weep.

Ah, do not weep, beloved mine
after a year you will be my own.
My own you shall certainly become,
as is no other on earth!

Oh love on the green earth.
I’m off to war, on the green heath,
the green heath is so far away!
Where there the fair trumpets sound,
there is my home,
my house of green grass!

We enjoy the heavenly pleasures,
so can dispense with earthly things!
No worldly turmoil
is to be heard in heaven!
Everything lives in gentlest repose!

We lead an angelic life!
We are, however, at times quite merry!
We dance and jump,
we skip and sing!
Saint Peter in heaven looks on!

Saint John drains the blood of the little lamb!
Herod, the butcher looks out for it!
We lead a patient,
innocent, patient,
a lovable lamb to its death!
Saint Luke slaughters the ox
without giving it thought or mind!
Wine costs not a penny
in heaven’s cellars!

The angels, they bake the bread!
Tasty herbs of every kind
grow in heaven’s gardens,
good asparagus, beans
and whatever we desire,
Whole dishfuls are ready for us.
Good apples, good pears and good grapes!
The gardeners, they let you have anything!
Do you want roebuck or hare?
In the middle of the street they come running to us!

Should, per chance, a day of fasting occur,
all the ﬁsh immediately swim up to us with joy,
there’s Saint Peter already running
with his net and bait
to the heavenly ﬁshpond!
Saint Martha must be the cook!

No music on earth
can compare with ours.
Eleven thousand maidens
are bold enough to dance!
Even Saint Ursula herself laughs at the sight.
No music on earth
can compare with ours.
Cecilia with her relatives
are excellent court musicians!
The angelic voices
delight the senses!
So that everything for joy awakens.

Man lies in greatest need!
Man lies in greatest pain!
Even more would I rather be in heaven!

There I came upon a broad path.
There came an angel and wanted to turn me away.
Ah no, I would not be turned away!
Ah no, I would not be turned away:
I am from God and want to return to God!
The loving God will give me a little of the light,
will illuminate me into the eternal blessed life!